Today is the Day!!!

It’s here!! Today!! I finally get my new boobs today!!!!! My real ones tried to kill me and so, by the time you all read this–I will be headed into surgery. Wish me luck, say a prayer, leave comments on my blog (even though I’m super behind in writing-p), and chant my mantra–Go Big or Go Home, Go Big or Go Home, Go Big or Go Home—hahahahaha—Yeah!! I had to get mine cut off to finally get a boob job–but it’s happening!! Don’t stand too close to me when you see me–I may poke your eye out! Yippee!! I’m so happy!

On another note–I cracked my molar–emergency dental and oral surgeon all afternoon yesterday–I’ll wake up with two new boobs and one more hole in my head–from the neck up I’ll look like a hillbilly–but from the neck down–woo hoo!!!!

Why is my life always about ginormous tradeoffs? Looks like a year of dental work ahead of me–implants in my mouth–implants in my chest–wow…

Last year, Jan. 11, 09 I stood in front of a group of people about to play the piano publicly for the first time in 25 yrs. I told everyone that ‘09 would be the year I faced all my biggest fears, rose to my biggest challenges. I said that 2 wks before being diagnosed with breast cancer. Looking back–how prophetic those words were. I did just that. When I said that, I wasn’t specific–so I say BE SPECIFIC–SPEAK SPECIFICALLY and don’t ever forget your strength to get through just about anything! Love you all!

We Wish You A Merry Christmas!

This pretty much says it all. My son’s Christmas program was on 12-10-09 and the last thing I did before I left for it that morning was put new batteries in the camera and check how much room was left on the memory card. I’m notorious for having technical difficulties or outright failures and it drives me insane. So, I get there, find a spot and start recording. Lo and behold, the batteries are working wonderfully but within minutes, I’m out of room on the memory card and I didn’t have a backup.

I remember it saying I had enough room for 54 pictures. I never once tried to think that might not be a good conversion when it came to video. I fumbled frantically as I had to make split second decisions as to which pictures and video I was going to erase knowing I hadn’t backed them up. For me, that’s the worst feeling. I did it though, but continued to have problems here and there. AAARRRGGGHHH! So, I recovered what I could and was able to at least get the general idea on tape.

I want a new digital video camera for myself. Total splurge, but I want one. I have a nice 8mm, but I want something that I can upload to youtube easily without a lot of converting and that camera is also semi-broken (well the housing anyway) because I forgot to lock it onto the tri-pod last Christmas and it fell off when the dog’s tail whacked it. I also want something I can just whip in and out of my purse. Right now, I’m just using the video feature on my camera. The resolution isn’t the greatest and it gets shaky every once in a while. Although, I have found that if I rest the arm that is holding the camera on my ginormous lady lump (ok, ok, breast mound–but it isn’t as funny) I have a great way to stabilize the video! —-Trying to look at the bright side of reconstruction—hahaha.

I’ve also put some additional videos into the Boob Tube for your viewing pleasure and it includes one from Jordan’s concert as well. She’s my harpist. She used to play cello for several years, but gave it up this year against my wishes. I’ve got some photos I’m working on uploading to Flickr so check those out. Justin was adamant about wearing a suit and a tie. I spent the night before racing around Walmart for new black shoes and socks. I also decided against the suit thing while there and thought khakis, a button down, and his red tie would look just as nice.

When I got home, I looked into his closet and found his Easter suit he never wore because I was in the middle of recovery from my mastectomy. It is very thin material so he wore his long johns underneath and whattayaknow…his old black shoes still fit with the dress socks! Score–I get to take the new ones back! He is super skinny and has always needed to wear adjustable waistbands or belts but they dig in and he hates that. He’s wearing his “spenders” as he calls them to hold his pants up.

He told me later that the girls in his class told him he looked “handsome” and the boys told him he was dressed “like a man”. He’s super serious throughout the concert and I wondered, “What’s up with that?” the whole time.

As usual, I have much I want to write about, but I know this week will be CRAZY. I can’t believe it’s been 8 weeks since my first reconstruction surgery. I have been going to the plastic surgeon weekly for my fills. What a bizarre process that has been and I have a big post (I’m sure you’re all surprised at how short this one is–lol) and lots of pics coming up. I will have my last fill in a couple days. I’ve been in a lot of discomfort and at times downright pain for almost 3 weeks now. The skin and pectoral muscle are stretching and it is really pulling at the point where the muscle attaches into the inner armpit area.

I look like I have a giant grapefruit on one side of my chest–I’m not kidding–this it TOTALLY BIZARRE! I’ve barely been able to sleep for several weeks now because of the pressure from the expander and my range of motion in my right arm is limited. I work on it everyday, but IT HURTS!!! Don’t get me wrong–I’m not really complaining–in fact, you have no idea how much this has lifted my spirits. To look inside my shirt and see cleavage again has done wonders for my outlook. My next surgery will be in January, but more on that later.

So, please enjoy the holidays–and if it isn’t snowing where you are at, enjoy the snow I’ve posted on here for you! Oh, and another thing–if you watch the video “Snowpants”–take a look at Justin’s facial expressions. Doesn’t he look like Bill Murray in “Caddyshack”? Hahahaha.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Picture taken 12/19/09 about 10pm after we got home from bringing Jasmine home. We made our last trip to Sioux City, yesterday. We’ll all be together for Christmas. Blessings.

I’m Seeing Another Man…

I’m seeing another man. In fact, I saw him twice last week. I also got to spend time with his partner and we discussed a possible threesome for later in the week…:)

Did that peak your curiosity? Perhaps I should clarify before the rumor mill gets to churning out the latest gossip and sends everyone in the family into a tizzy…

Due to ongoing pain around the tooth I had rooted out back in May, I found myself back in the hot seat at my new dentist’s office three times last week. Last Monday, I had the pleasure of meeting one more of the three dentists that practice at the Myotech Dental Center. This was not the same doctor that helped fix the 4 cavities and the root canal issue that had surfaced prior to starting my chemotherapy. Since Dr. Leppo was not in, Dr. Prudent and I made plans for me to return when both Dr. Leppo and Dr. Prudent could take a look at what was going on. I was again impressed with the unbelievable bedside manner of yet another partner in that business and it completely justified my decision to divorce the dentist I had been seeing for almost 4 years.

There have only been four dentists up until now in my life. My childhood dentist was imposed upon me by my parents. I hated him. There was something about him that really made my skin crawl. My girls call those kind of people–”creepers”. When I think about it–he was. I’m sure he was a nice enough fellow, but I didn’t like him and he inflicted a great deal of pain on me during my childhood and for that–he was out. Actually, he dumped me and opted for retirement. When his son took over the practice, I stayed for a while. The commute back and forth from where I lived in the cities as a young woman to the office in my hometown was just too difficult to make over a lunch hour though and so, I left him–without so much as a goodbye.

For five years, I worked for an eye surgeon in the Quad Cities. His office was right beside a dentist’s office. One day, I decided to start up a new relationship. I stayed with that dentist and followed him when he moved to a bigger office. As I moved further away, the commute began to take a toll once again, but there was a bigger problem. I hated his secretary–just couldn’t stand her–very bitchy and always looking down her nose at me–especially when I’d come in a few minutes late (as though she had never gotten stuck in traffic or dealt with kids in meltdowns). The doctor himself was great–kind, soft spoken, gentle, and would always set my appointments for the last one in the day because he knew that I was a freaker (thanks to dentist #1). He knew that more than anything, going to the dentist for me was a major psychological hurdle. He knew where the exposed roots were on the two molars that had housed headgear bands during the phase in my life when I wore braces and he always stayed clear from them with his sharp tool. I’ll never forget (I’m sure he won’t either) the day I went in to have a silver filling that had gone bad dug out and resealed. I was a mess–couldn’t stop crying, freaking out about the drill–I mean BAD. I was literally crawling up the back of the chair to get away. What should have taken about 20 minutes took and hour and a half because he would stop and start and stop and start to give me some time to brace myself. He never laughed at me. He understood and he was patient with my freak out. I loved him for that. I sent the office flowers the day after.

Unfortunately, I just couldn’t stand to go there and be harrassed by the secretary. I showed up about 10 minutes late one night and she went through the roof and said I needed to pay a broken appointment fee. I had already had a bad day and I told her to shove it. It would be different if I never showed up, but I even called in route to tell her I was on my way. It infuriated me so much, I divorced her–on the spot. That meant, though, that I was divorcing him too and that made me really sad because I had been with him for about 15 years and so had my kids. I decided to find something closer to where we had just moved. I took a coupon out of the Welcome Wagon basket that promised free exams for new patients. Without dental insurance–that was like winning the lottery for me and my family because those new patient exams are soooo outrageously priced. My family has been with this dentist for about four years, but we haven’t liked it. Even so, I just can’t justify spending over a thousand dollars to get everyone in for new patient exams, x-rays and cleanings somewhere else. So, we’ve stayed.

The dentist at the time was someone I personally didn’t care for. He was patronizing and I just couldn’t stand that about him. He actually laughed when I told him I didn’t know if I could take having any major dental work done and that I have been known to take more than 2 or 3 novacaine shots in the past because I could feel the work being done despite the anesthetic. He would look at me incredulously and then laugh. It made my blood boil. I felt as though he really couldn’t care less and to him you were just a meal ticket. The women in the office infuriated me as well and would pad the bill each time I went in for myself or my kids. I’m always VERY SPECIFIC when it comes to dental bills because it is such a HUGE outlay of cash each 6 months that I have to budget very carefully. The last time I went in for me I told them I needed x-rays and an exam–no cleaning, no sealant, no flouride, no extras whatsoever because I was just checking on a specific tooth (the root canal one). I’ve learned with these women to repeat myself and make sure they have made notations on my account so when I actually do come in, there is no mistaking what I want or don’t want done. With all the computerization that is in that office and with the prior knowledge all these women have of me and that I can get very bitchy when someone is trying to screw me out of money–you would think that there were red flags waving signaling my arrival that day. Nope.

When I went back to the examining room the hygenist took the x-ray and then proceeded to clean my teeth. I stopped her, asked her what she was doing, and she looked at me like she had no idea what I was talking about. I got up, walked out to the office and really got into the ladies business that is in charge of scheduling. I remember her telling me, “Well, if she started the cleaning, then we have to charge you for the whole cleaning and so you may as well get it done”. OH MY GOD–ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I went nuts. I even reminded her when I signed in that day. Do you think she could have transferred that information to the hygenist? I cancelled all other appointments for the rest of the year for the kids and myself–went ahead and said ENOUGH IS ENOUGH (actually, that was the nice version of what I said) and I walked out. Before I left, I did demand all the x-rays, afterall, I paid for them over the years–why shouldn’t they give them to me?

Months go by and I hadn’t found a new dental home. I knew that wherever I landed, I wanted it to be the last one. I wanted to feel like the people in the office and the doctors themselves didn’t just see me as a walking $$ sign. I knew I needed to start looking, but I knew I was going to have to have work done to that upper tooth that gave me such problems. It wasn’t until that trip out to see my grandmother in Virginia one year ago that I passed by a billboard sign in Kentucky that promoted a local dentist and said something about sedation dentistry. I thought about it the whole way out and when I got home I started looking over the yellow pages. There aren’t too many places that provide that service here where I live. I would have to either travel or call an office that I always thought was geared more for patients needing dentures and dental implants. I took a shot on the denture office and it turned out they do all sorts of tooth restoration work. They also carried the ZOOM teeth whitening machine and I had been dying to have that done for a few years. I remember when I first called for information and prices (before I was even diagnosed) finding out that it was in my best interest to be a patient–it would be cheaper. Sigh. That meant I was going to have to start shelling out some big bucks to have all that new patient work done before I could even start any work.

It wasn’t long after Christmas last year that I had that fateful mammogram where I was diagnosed with breast cancer. When that happened, everything else took a back seat and months went by before I was again faced with the need to see a dentist. Back in April, I was told by my first oncologist that any dental work that I needed to have done would need to be done prior to starting treatment because the risk of any infection developing while my immune system was being destroyed would not be a good thing. I knew I had one cavity and it was a bad one, so I went ahead and called this denture office to see about coming in. I explained my situation and they got me in–no problem–no waiting. The doctor that came in to talk to me was hands down the nicest dentist I’ve ever met. He and I talked at length about my nerves and then discussed the x-rays and the fact that I had not one but FOUR cavities! One was so bad it needed a root canal (that was the one in question for 6 months). He told me the price of everything and I think I stopped breathing.

Where in the world was I going to come up with about $2800 in a week (I had to have it done before my first chemo on May 7, 2009)? I don’t carry credit cards–I figure if I don’t have the money for something, I shouldn’t be buying it, but now was one of those times I wished I had an emergency card. To tell you the truth–I’d just be paying interest and minimum payments for God knows how long and that’s not how I operate. I hate being “payment-ed” to death. I was really going to have to fanagle this one. That’s when he told me he could spread the payments out and give me 90 days same as cash. Still a freaking lot of money, but I had to have it done AND I know of no other dentist office that will let you do that. It included the extra $500 to put me to sleep–totally worth it in my mind and the date was set. I had to have someone drive me out to the surgical facility and hang around nearby for a few hours because I would be loopy to drive myself home. I wasn’t completely knocked out, and I can only remember bits and pieces of that afternoon.

Taken 5-4-09 right before being put under for my root canal.

I remember the nurse putting the IV in my arm and turning on the medicine that would make me fall asleep.

I remember Dr. Leppo coming in and telling me everything would be ok.

I remember him giving me a warm blanket and turning on the TV.

I remember several times opening up my eyes and seeing him hovering over me with a lot of bright lights and he was wearing micro-surgeon’s binoculars. He would ask me reassuringly each time if I was ok.

I remember my jaw aching.

I remember when it was over, he got up and he walked around holding onto his back because he had been in such an awkward position for over three and a half hours.

I remember telling him that I really appreciated his kind nature.

I remember him smiling at me very warmly and saying, “That’s what I’m here for”. He told me I would need a crown on that tooth, but because of the placement of the cavity on that particular tooth, I would be lucky not to lose the tooth sometime in the near future. He said it was a 50/50 shot and he made the decision to see if the root canal would do the trick. He said it was just too bad and that the cancer was really beginning to do some damage to my teeth. He said the tooth itself was packed full of antibiotics before being sealed. He also told me to come back with any problems and to hang tough through the chemo.

I looked at him dead on and said, “I want you to know, that if I don’t make it out of this this year, that you were one of the nicest doctors I had ever met and I was very glad to have him as part of my medical team.” He thanked me and told me it was quite alright.

It was just a couple days later when I had that encounter with the woman in the wig shop (Just Own It) and that is when I made the decision to get my tattoo. I knew that would also need to be done prior to chemo and my white cells getting killed off and I knew that all the antibiotics from the root canal would help kill off any kind of infection a tattoo might inflict. Right before going in for my first round of chemo, I went back to Dr. Leppo. I hadn’t been able to eat anything in a few days. My mouth was so sore from being clamped open for so long. I knew the other teeth he had fixed would take some getting used to chewing on again, but the side of my mouth that really had the work done was in a lot of pain. I couldn’t take the Vicadin because I transport kids during the day and the Ibuprofen just wasn’t doing the trick. He filed some stuff down and I went home. It wouldn’t matter whether I had eaten or not, the day came for my first chemo and after that I wasn’t really that hungry for a while. After about three weeks, things calmed down and I have been good since then–until a couple weeks ago.

I started experiencing pain on both sides of my upper jaw again. It got to the point where I just knew I had to get it looked at. I was worked in right away and from the initial x-rays, Dr. Leppo’s partner couldn’t tell if I had cracked the root canal tooth (with all the stress over Jasmine this summer, I had forgotten to go back for the crown), or if the tooth had two roots and one wasn’t all the way tied off or whatever they do to it. I kept saying there was something else. On the tooth right beside it. It was causing me A LOT of pain. He told me to come back on Wednesday and together, Dr. Prudent and Dr. Leppo would take a look and try to determine what was going on. Sitting in the dentist’s chair on Wednesday, I started getting nervous. What if the tooth has to come out. Then I’m going to need a fake tooth. Geez, I already have a fake boob, my face tells a nasty story with all the worry lines of what our family went through this past year, and now I am losing my teeth. I’m just so sick of falling apart.

As I waited for the doctor to come in, I mulled over a lot of stuff. “It’s detail work now, smoothing out the kinks–ya know?” I said to myself as convincingly as possible. I began to think about it more along those lines and after a few moments, I made yet another decision regarding my aftercare. As I sat there and stared at the posters for teeth whitening, I decided I would be more specific with my New Year’s resolutions and I was going to be doubly specific with what I meant by “This year I’m going to work on Me” (my resolution last year–and way to generic and vague). As far as my teeth were concerned, I was going to fix my teeth and get them back into a stable state and then I was going to ZOOM them. A little cosmetic pick me up for the new year. If my smile were to dazzle everyone, perhaps they wouldn’t see the wrinkles that were forming, the gray hair that was just beginning to grow in, the extra 30 pounds I was sporting, or the cyclops boob that was expanding on my chest.

I know its all superficial–it’s not what truly counts–but dammit, I need a makeover in the worst way. I decided that…

I would go and get my hair re-colored–I’ve tried my new natural color for six months now and it’s just not happening. I’ve tried rocking the lesbian chic look and I’m not sure I’m pulling it off. LOL.

I’m going to take myself over to the little nail salon by my house and get a much needed mani/pedi.

I am going to commit to my nutrition program and stop talking about the extra 30 pounds–instead–I’m going to do something about them. I’m going to work my ass off–literally. I want to sign up to learn how to dance salsa. That should burn a few calories.

I’m going to get ready for my next surgery where the expander will be taken out of my chest and an implant will be inserted and I will have the other side lifted. I will contemplate a matching implant for the left side and a nipple reconstruction for the right side–something I’ve not been sold on yet.

I am going to go get a spray tan–for the hell of it. I always feel better with a little color in my skin and since I’m terrified of burning my chest in a tanning bed and not feeling it because all the nerves have been severed–I am going to go get airbrushed–just because. Period. Maybe they can spray on a six pack for me–haha–afterall, I’ve often heard that you should post a picture of your goal on the fridge to remind you of what your working for. I’ll just post my pic on my gut.

Lastly, I’m getting a massage. I need one. I’ve been terrified of getting one after what I was told back in February (that massage helps the drain the lymphatic system and that getting a massage when you have invasive cancer could possible send any free radicals bee-lining for a new host location to set up shop). I need one though–not want one–NEED ONE! Too much stress buildup over this year.

I need to stop pouring so much of me into everyone else all the time and carve out time to pour back into me. I just have to be a little selfish. Period. I’ve neglected me for too long. I had been expanding my mind, but forgot about all the other stuff and as you get older it’s important to look at the whole picture–or pieces of the picture start to get torn and that’s what was happening to me.

All of a sudden, Dr. Leppo walked in beaming. He was genuinely happy to see me. He said to me, “You made it!–That deserves a hug!” He came over and hugged me and then sat down to talk to me. I said, “I’m alive”! and we spent a few minutes catching up on how the year has gone. It was like talking to an old friend I hadn’t seen in years. Our attention turned to my teeth and we came to the conclusion that I really needed a whole new set of x-rays to see the damage that the chemo has done to my teeth.

“What kind of damage does chemo do to your teeth?” I asked.

“Well, it’s not really the chemo as much as it is the fact that chemo dries your mouth out and as a result of an extremely dry mouth, you don’t have the saliva needed to keep your gum tissue healthy which can also contribute to dental carries. Without saliva, there’s nothing to wash the sugars away” he said. Thankfully, I didn’t really experience any major side effects except having my hair fall out and going into respiratory arrest–nothing major–yeah, right–so, a few cavities is nothing in comparison, right? It still didn’t explain the pain, though.

I told him I had tried to schedule a new patient cleaning, exam, and x-rays, but was told the first appointment wouldn’t be until the end of March. He and his assistant looked through everything and because we had been hit with such a snow storm the previous week, there were many cancellations from people not wanting to drive into town. I was scheduled for the next day and as I left, I was told that there was no charge for my office visit for the second time that week. I couldn’t help but think that I had found my new dental home.

The next day brought a lot of anxiety for me. I was going to have to go through all the poking with that sharp little instrument I hate so much. All the scraping on my silver fillings that sends shivers through my spine and sounds like nails on a chalkboard. I was going to have to pray my new hygenist would be mindful of the exposed roots on the upper back molars and I would have to really hold on to the hope that I hadn’t cracked my tooth and the underlying problem was, in fact, due to something else. I couldn’t have been more put at ease. The two girls that worked on me were soooo nice! They answered all my questions about water picks, sonic toothbrushes, and teeth whitening. One talked to me about my cancer and asked quite frankly what I was thinking when I realized that I was really going to have to have my boob cut off (she’s young). It didn’t shock me, and I’d rather someone just come out and ask me those kinds of questions then just whisper behind my back. She asked if I was contemplating reconstruction and I had to laugh inwardly–did she not see this huge cyclops boob on my chest? Did she just think that was the silhouette of my real boob and since it overshadowed the actual real one that the left side must be the side I had cut off because it really looks pathetic over there now. Then she told me she just had an augmentation and that’s when I asked her a bunch of questions–especially–silicone or saline? That’s the question that weighs heavily on my mind these days.

Dr. Leppo came in again and looked through all the x-rays. Turns out I have two old silver fillings that are lifting up and causing me great pain since stuff is getting in there. They’ll need to be dug out and replaced. I hate the thought of it, but am secretly glad to get rid of all the silver in my mouth. It turns the color of my teeth gray and I hate it. So, I’ll get them replaced with enamel colored fillings and that should help the discoloration on that side. We’ll start working on replacing all of them since they seem to be really wearing out–but we’ll do it slowly and as I can afford to do so and about that root canal tooth–well, it’s still too hard to determine just what is going on with it, but I do have a cavity butted right up beside it and it could just be pain radiating throughout that entire area.

We talked about the possibility that once the cavity is filled, I find out that I’m still having pain and that it really is the root canal tooth. We talked about extracting it and having an implant put in. I freaked. I don’t know a lot about that–my parents always had partials–these things that they put into their mouths in the morning and took out at night to brush and soak. On their website their is a tiny flash video of how they use a screw to anchor in the implant–it acts like a metal root. “God, I totally do not want to do this”, I prayed and then quickly proceeded to put it into context–”Chris, you had your boob cut off this year. If you can do that, then you can handle a tooth implant screwed into your jaw”. Dr. Leppo reminded me it may not come to that. I was worried about how much that was going to cost. We never did get specifics, but he did say he would apply all the money I had paid for the root canal toward the implant. He told me he would stand behind his work and if it didn’t work, then he would reimburse me. Have I mentioned lately, that I love him? He knows just what to say to help get me through all this and for me it all boils down to pain and money. How much pain do I have to endure and how much is that pain going to cost me.

We talked about doing all the work at once and again I started to panic. We came to the agreement that I would get the middle sedation treatment–a pill that would make me super relaxed–and if I needed laughing gas–he’d give me that as needed. I’ve spent almost my entire adult life not relying on drugs or meds for things and this year, I have decided–they really come in handy! I wasn’t going to do it all at once, but it sure beats having to get super freaked more than one time. I also can’t stand to take off 2 or 3 afternoons to get it all done. So, we scheduled it for over a naptime where I could feed the kids and have a sub come in to help–mostly just to make sure they nap soundly. The effects of the meds should wear off farely quickly after the procedure and thankfully, my daughters will be home to help me out should I need it with the rest of the afternoon. The 29th of December is the day and I am not looking forward to it. I paid for half the visit (which was supposed to be $350 and they only charged me $219–another score in my book) and I made arrangements to put the balance with the total from the 29th (about $700) on a 3-pay again. Hard to come up with all that during Christmas, but I just have to keep plowing ahead. I can’t think about it or I’ll get stressed. It just bites because I just registered for school to retake a couple classes. These are on my dime. I just got that bill and now I realize why I signed onto that scholarship program (note to self–never let another class slide). Sigh. It’s always something. Anyway, here’s my super nice dentist and if any of you are wanting to make a switch to their office in Moline, make sure you tell them I sent you. They have an incentive program for referrals and one of them is a massage–I mentioned earlier how much I needed one, right?

Dr. Leppo

Full Moon Rising…

Full Moon Rising

I’m in the middle of working on 2008 AND 2009 taxes–ugh. A bazillion receipts that need to be poured over and a mountain of 2009 medical bills is now growing exponentially and is beginning to resemble a full-scale replica of Mt. Kilamanjaro. I hate doing this. I have software programs that should simplify this part of my life and great paper systems that claim to do the same thing, but what I want to do is anything but taxes so, I put it off. I absolutely hate bean counting. It takes me forever to catch up and granted, it’s my fault I’m now in a state of freak out, but I’ll get it done somehow–I’ll just be a lot more worse for wear over the next couple weeks. Hopefully I’ll make some headway soon and this mountain of paper will get under control in time for the holidays or at least by the time Jasmine comes home. Yep, you heard me…she’s coming home…soon.

As thrilled as I am, I am extremely nervous. I don’t want for old habits to rise back up to the surface, but I have to pray that she has learned a great deal of coping skills and she will rise above all the triggers that she will be faced with daily. We had the pleasure of spending our Thanksgiving with her while she earned a 4-day pass. It was filled with love, laughter, good food, and family–just what Thanksgivings are about.

It was our biggest blessing–to see her alive and doing well and clean and sober and genuinely happy to be with us. That blessing could only compare to our family’s other biggest blessing–me–and the fact that I am still alive 10 months after being diagnosed with breast cancer. We built fires and roasted marshmallows. We stayed up all night long and watched movies. We laughed until we cried, lost our voices, and acted completely crazy as Jasmine joined Jordan and I on our psycho shopping sprees where we waited for hours in the freezing weather just to be pushed and shoved through the stores and become so discombobulated that we were standing in the wrong lines to check out more than once. She had never shared in the Black Friday tradition before and was absolutely shocked to see the chaos.

She wanted to surprise everyone for Thanksgiving dinner and so we dropped her off a block away from Jeff’s sister’s house and as we all loaded into the house without her, she snuck up several minutes later and burst in on the crowd. Tears flowed, cameras flashed and a young girl was reminded while she was sober how much she was loved. She met up with an on again off again boy who proceeded to stay with us over the course of the next few days. He’s leaving for the navy boot camp in just a few days and I knew they both wanted to see each other. I was reminded watching the two of them that out of all the boyfriends she’s ever had–I liked him the most. I also liked the fact that when he messed up he took my motherly bitching and came back apologetic and sincere. No matter what went down between them or whose fault it was–I couldn’t help but think I’d be pretty lucky to someday have a son-in-law that nice and down to earth. They are both still young and I don’t expect anything, but I can dream and I can always hope that whoever my daughter is lucky enough to find–will treat her with as much loving kindness as Dylan has. He was also instrumental in helping me find her in Ohio after she had been taken. That alone, in my book, earns him oodles of brownie points.

Jasmine & Dylan Thanksgiving Eve '09

Jasmine made it a point to find meetings near here that will help keep her on track and we set up necessary services that will help her deal with her lifelong struggles that she will face. Before we knew it, the 3 full days flew by and it was time for another day long trip in the car to get her back. She’s been doing well and pulling straight A’s once again, but I do worry that when she comes home, it won’t be as easy for her to stay focused. I guess all I can do is pray about it. If all goes well, she’ll finish up one more class–hopefully two–and then be able to come home in time for Christmas.

Jordan, Jasmine, and I loaded up the car last Sunday and we set out (late) across the state. We went out to eat for breakfast with Jeff and Justin beforehand so we wouldn’t have to worry about eating junk food the whole way out. What usually takes us between 5.5 and 6 hrs. took us almost 7.5 just to get across the state. We followed every holiday traveller out of Iowa in bumper to bumper traffic–both lanes–never making it over 60mph. Torturous for speed demons like me. I kept reminding myself that patience is a virtue and I needed to channel all the patience I endure daily with the children I work with every day. Easier said than done when your in that much traffic.

We stopped by a rest stop for a break and Jasmine came out looking for a woman that had left her purse on the back of the toilet. I saw the woman came out and thought, “cute haircut” when I saw her and then she left quickly. We peeked inside the purse and found her phone. Going through her contacts we found a Steve and called him to explain everything to him. He was able to contact her and her sons so they were able to turn around and come back for her purse. It was an expensive Kate Spade purse and it was filled with cash and expensive perfume and credit cards. It would have been so easy for someone to steal it and go shopping. I was so proud of my daughter wanting to do the right thing. We agreed to wait and I told her that this woman was so lucky it was us and not some crook.

When the woman showed up in her fancy Lexus SUV she got out and was totally snobbish. She wasn’t overly appreciative and she didn’t even offer Jasmine $5 for returning it. I know we did the right thing, and yes we did it for that reason and not for any monetary reward–but let’s be honest–some munchie money for the trip would have been nice. We were travelling in comfortable clothes and she sized us up and down and figured we were below her class and couldn’t be bothered with us. I could read it all in her eyes. I just hate snobs. This setback cost us another 45 min. and I just had to tell myself and the girls that it was 45 min. more we had with each other that day and it was a test to see if Jasmine would do the right thing. She passed.

Working our way westward, I knew that I had one more stop in store for us. There is a tower that sits on top of a scenic overlook along I-680W in Iowa close to the I-29N exit. I’ve always wanted to stop each time we have gone to visit, but the first couple times I missed the exit. Each time after that, Jeff was with and driving and couldn’t be bothered with such trivial memory makers. On this day, though, I was in charge. We arrived just as the sun was setting. The air was crisp and cold and even though we weren’t going to stay long, I wanted to take the girls up. I wanted them to look out over a very large area and see where states of Iowa, Nebraska, and South Dakota converge. I secretly hoped that as Jasmine and Jordan looked out across the countryside that they would see that the keys to their success are in her hands. I wanted Jasmine to see that her possibilities were endless and that she was lucky to be alive after what happened to her this summer. I hoped that she would see that her destiny was out there in this world and that with God’s grace she would find her way.

The back of the tower appears dark because of the setting sun.

[

The front of the tower was illuminated with deep golds and just beyond the tower, I saw a full moon rising pictured above).

When I saw my daughters up on top of that tower--I couldn't help but think quickly over the past year about how far each of us had come.

Jasmine looks out

Jordan joins her sister at the top

Holding on for dear life

We had all battled demons and even though we weren’t completely free of their grips, we were still standing. We were still surviving. We were still breathing. I joined my girls at the top of the tower and looked out. I needed to practice what I preached and I needed to grab onto life again–a life I never imagined would turn out the way it had, but never-the-less still grateful to be alive to see my children grow.

The air was biting and the wind caused my stomach to flip flop. I looked out over the meandering interstate that had carried my family members back and forth for months as we visited our very ill daughter over 6 hours away.

I-29N

I-680W

I never knew what the end of this part of the journey would look like, but with a crimson sky I couldn’t help but think it was amazing and better yet, it was almost finished. I looked at my girls and told them I loved them and then we took a picture of all of us.

Freezing our butts off

A gust came whipping through the tower and scared all of us. I began to descend but got really scared and had to sit down and scooch down on my butt while my daughters laughed at their “chicken” mom.

Me--realizing how I hate heights

Stop laughing at me!

With the last burst of sunshine, I took a little video of my girls playing. When I see the opening picture of the video–before I even click play, I am reminded that they are still little girls. In the grand scheme of life and for how fast they are trying to get on with their lives or grow up before they are ready–it just reminds me that right now, this very instant, whether they like it or not–they are still little. It also reminds me of a more peaceful time in our lives. A time without the drama and crisis and heartache and devastating health issues that plagued our family this year. I can see my LITTLE girls in this picture–I can see the glimmer of hope that tomorrow holds limitless possibilities. The video is just pure silliness–and also gave me a shot of my second full moon that day.

This parting shot of Jasmine with me is priceless. I don’t think I’ll ever forget how hard she was pulling me toward her. I won’t forget her telling me sincerely and unsolicited–”I Love You”–over and over–something I hadn’t heard in years. I was glad that Jordan took the picture. I’ll treasure the moment always.

I Love You, Mom!

Jordan slept almost all the way home and the trip back was easy and much quicker–5.10 hrs. to be exact. I had never made the trip that quickly. There was noone on the road for miles and miles as I’m sure everyone was already home and tucked into bed awaiting work the next morning. I drove home listening to Christmas carols and thanking God for letting me live so that I may see to it that Jasmine would get the help she needed. I thanked him for not taking her home before me (at least this past summer this summer). I prayed for no more whammies. I told him that I thought I had managed the year as best I could and that I truly believed that I needed a break. I also wondered what lied in store for me and my family this next year.

Honestly, I need things to look up in 2010. I need time without crisis so that I can try to rebuild my faith, my relationship with my daughter and all of my family for that matter, my finances, my businesses, my educational aspirations, my professional endeavors, etc. As bleak as it looked several times this year I know I’m not ready to throw in the towel yet. I’m just ready to start snapping it again. –Watch out!

Formal shoutout to Dylan here–God bless you and keep you safe. Don’t forget our address and when you get out of boot camp–make sure to call. You are loved and you will be in our prayers.

P.S. I took my own advice and re-registered for the upcoming spring semester. I am going to re-take the two classes I let go. I couldn’t focus last year with the bombarding information coming at me and I also reached a point where I felt I’d rather be spending time with my family instead of having my nose in a book all the time. I was worried I was going to die and I worried about it all the time. I no longer think that way. I believe I’m going to be around here for a while and I may as well get my degree finished. I just won’t try to attain it at warp speed. Third reason–my scholarship people are getting ancy for me to fulfill my contract. I really don’t want to pay back all of the thousands they’ve given me because I’m in breach of my contract with them. I’ve hashed out an extension plan with the TEACH program and I am grateful they are understanding and accommodating to my requests. Now if I could just peel myself away from all the reality TV I’ve become addicted to…:)

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner…

“You did it, writer!

Pitted against a merciless deadline and battling hordes of distractions—including the most tempting fall TV season that’s been unleashed upon novelists in decades—you kept at it.

Now you’ve arrived at a place that very few NaNoWriMo participants ever see: The winner’s circle. Overhead, the November sky is bursting with fireworks celebrating your victory, and the entire NaNoWriMo staff joins me in applauding your creative achievement.

You did something amazing this month, novelist. We couldn’t be prouder.

We wish you well on your future adventures, and hope to see you for Script Frenzy in April, and have you back again with us for NaNoWriMo next November.”

This was the message that flashed on my screen as I uploaded what I had written so far in November.

Yeah!!!!

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Happy Happy Joy Joy!!

My word count came in at 61,576! I did it! And that’s not even halfway finished! At least the start of my book has begun and it will give me something creative to work on during 2010. I’ll learn the ropes of editing and rewriting my W.I.P. (work in progress) and I’m really looking forward to that! I’m an official Nanowrimo winner! The goal was 50,000 words in 30 days and I’ve surpassed that goal–I think that calls for some Whitey’s ice cream!!!

She’s B-a-a-c-k…

I’ve been working on a post for a week in between being down and out with a horrible chest cold/migraine combination. I found myself in bed between 5pm and 6pm every night last week and I am still working through a lingering cough that hurts my chest each time I feel that tickle in the back of my throat. Like Pavlov’s response, my chest muscle spasms at the mere thought of needing to cough. It hasn’t been too pleasant and I am trying to suppress those darn coughs, but to no avail. It has worn me out and since I am not finished with that post, I thought I’d at least pop in for a quickie update.

As I worked on last week’s post–well, more like a rant–and worked through my illness which came on suddenly during our trip out west to visit out daughter–I was able to manage in two doctor visits as well. The first was with my plastic surgeon for my 4th fill and that was on Tuesday. I am about halfway through the fill process and last week marked 400cc so far. This experience is very bizarre and I am just slightly larger ( I think) than my real Bo, now. I see him each week and actually, today will be my 5th fill visit and bringing the total to 450cc. I can’t wait to start posting those pictures, you all will be truly amazed at how far my body has chosen to cooperate!

On Wednesday, I had a folow-up with my general surgeon–the one who cut my boob off. I see him every 3 months and he was really impressed with how things are going and that I had chosen to go through with the additional surgeries. He said he has been following my reports from my onco-man and my plastic surgeon and everything is looking good. No news was really given about that mass found in my left ovary and I figure, if it was something to be worried about, someone would have called me by now. He taught me what to look for and feel for now that I will have an implant soon and for the first time since I’ve been going to him, he was pretty gentle in his groping. He usually digs in so deep that I am bruised for a week after, but I begged the nurse to talk to him before he came in and tell him I had just had surgery 5 weeks prior. I was really surprised he was accommodating to that request. He also ended our visit by telling me I would only need one more groping with him in 3 more months which will bring the date just past the one year anniversary mark since we met for the first time. When I think that he got further with me (second base) on our first date then my husband ever did, it makes me sad. The men that have felt me up this year–both experienced and unexperienced–has really frustrated me and at times pissed me off. The hardest thing was having to watch my hubby watch these strange men feel me up. We all knew it was in the name of medicine of course, but I really don’t blame Jeff for no longer coming along to the visits. It’s just got to be uncomfortable and weird.

When we were up to see our daughter, we were given news during our family session that she is doing really well. We worked on a home living contract for when she is released and we learned that she has earned a pass home for the holidays! We are thrilled and busy getting the house ready and plans to do some fun things. It means a shortened work week for me as I will need to take Wednesday off and drive myself up to get her and bring her home. She’ll be here for four days and then I will return on Sunday and take her back. If all goes well while she’s here and if she maintains her levels when she gets back, she could be released by Christmas. That would be fantastic! The keys to everything, her success, her future, everything are in her hands. I pray she is strong enough to start taking back the reigns to her life. I pray.

Jeff & Justin have been putting up the Christmas lights, and doing a lot of yard work. I have been working slowly through my cold and this weekend I trained to present a class at the Arsenal this weekend. I will take the class over and begin presenting on occasion. I love that! I am also working on 2008 taxes and starting in on 2009’s. I hate that! Jordan babysat this weekend and worked on homework and confirmation studies. We all are gearing up for a big Thanksgiving with Jeff’s family like we do every year. Saturday night we were given tickets to see the Holiday Pops concert given by our local symphony and it included a Cirque de Soleil type of experience. The performers were called Cirque de la Symphonie (hit the play button when you get to the preview video) and it really was an enjoyable and free family experience! On the way home from the show, I developed cramps in my abdomen. They were reminiscent of menstrual cramps, but that couldn’t be–could it? I haven’t had one since January 2009 and my onco-man has given me two hormone tests to see where I stood with regard to menopause.

The first time the test came back, I was borderline menopausal and he chalked it up to that. The last time I saw him, we took another blood sample and that eventually came back saying I was pre-menopausal–not borderline. What changed? Now the cramps on Saturday night? I wondered if it could be something else, but Sunday morning came and Aunt Flo came back just in time for the holidays. I wish I could say I was happy about that. Quite frankly, I don’t know what to think. Honestly, I’m worried all over. I was just beginning to let my guard down. Maybe that’s why its here again. I have always felt that ever since that initial diagnosis, the extreme freakout I have been living in as a result of that diagnosis ever since, my daughter’s health and well-being, my husband’s job situation, our mounting financial obligations to a myriad of medical facilities, the monumental stress had instantaneously shut down that monthly cycle.

It is true that extreme stress, certain health conditions, and certain medicines can stop Aunt Flo from showing up, but now–after 9 months of not having one–she’s back. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Does it mean that it has just taken me 9 months to finally calm down–really? I don’t have the stress load from school, my mastectomy is behind me, the chemotherapy has been called off, my tests are beginning to look ok, my daughter is somewhere I can locate her and she is doing well. My head is getting back in the game of life and looking forward to new beginnings with next year, my outward self-image is looking up, and my accreditation is behind me along with several other re-certification processes. Could my body just be signaling me that I have successfully chilled out enough to resume its normal functioning?

But…what if…this is a sign that something isn’t right? The Tamoxifen is supposed to shut down production of my estrogen which was feeding my cancer. Could it be that the meds aren’t working? Am I still producing estrogen in spite of the meds? If I’m still producing estrogen, then I’m still ovulating, then I’m still having periods. What does that mean in terms of my prognosis? Should I get my period back? Should the meds prevent that from happening? I am confused and worried. I have two calls in to my onco-man. I’m waiting for someone to call me back. Has this happened to anyone out there? Can anyone tell me what’s going on? Is this normal? Should I be concerned? Maybe my body has finally expelled the last of the chemo drugs. I don’t know. I wish the phone would ring…

Race For the Cure

Throughout this past year, with all the ups and downs and major family crisis, there is one event that really sticks out in my mind–a moment where we ALL came together (including Jasmine)–The Race For the Cure. I am going to be completely honest here, I had always heard of it, but had never participated before. I had always read about it in the paper, but had never witnessed it. I had always seen news clips of our local race, but I had never been touched personally by breast cancer up until this year. I take that back, as I’ve stated before in my post Strapped In Tight , my oldest daughter’s daycare provider was affected by the disease and yet, after she got remarried and moved, we lost touch. We weren’t thinking about it daily anymore and therefore, details and extra curricular activities once again busied our lives.

I have spent a great deal of time flip-flopping between being on the outside looking in (even though I was very “IN”) or “owning it”. I have said openly–”I DON’T WANT TO BELONG TO THIS CLUB”! I don’t. A big part of me really just doesn’t want to ever have to worry about cancer, statistics, prosthesis, chemotherapy, metastasis, reconstruction, wigs, mastectomy swimwear, etc. etc. etc. It’s like this…when you are pregnant for the first time, you are hyper tuned to all the strollers you see passing you in the mall, all the laughter of a preschooler playing in a park, a toddler crying for a piece of candy in the checkout lanes of the grocery store, or a baby and its mother conveying their love for each other through their eyes. If you aren’t pregnant or trying to conceive, you are busy with many other routines of life. Same goes for cancer. I am now, on alert when I read things in the newspaper regarding cancer treatments. I am more aware of (young and old alike) women that have lost their hair and whether they are wearing a head covering of some sort. I am more aware of the anguish some women are feeling as they are sitting in the Center for Breast Health. I know what they are feeling now. I have been there. I have walked a mile in their shoes. I have deep compassion and respect for these individuals who are facing their own mortality.

So, it goes without too much saying that when all the buzz about our local Susan G. Komen’s Race For the Cure was getting underway, that I found myself drawn to signing up. What an experience that was! I couldn’t believe how many people were at the sign up. I couldn’t believe how much pink was being proudly worn. I couldn’t believe how huge this was. The signup happened on a weekday and since I provide childcare during the day, I thought I’d just take them down with me–no big deal–we’d sign up–they would be my sign up supporters and we’d high five a good job done for Tina and we’d go grab a pizza somewhere. Little did I know that it would turn into a huge nightmare.

It was COLD and windy that day. The parking lot was jam packed and we had to park all the way to the back of the lot and run up. Once inside the convention center, I had to navigate through lines of women all the while continuously counting heads even though the kids are all knowledgeable about the rules I have while in public–hands on the stroller at all times, listen carefully for instructions, etc. We made it to the line where the applicants who hadn’t pre-registered were asked to stand. I waited approximately 20 minutes only to get to the front of the line when I remembered I left my debit card in the van. We turned around and headed back out into the cold to retrieve it. Once we returned the line had grown. We waited again for approximately another 30 minutes and once I reached the head of the row, the lady explained that they do not accept debit cards. I couldn’t believe it. I was so angry! She knew that was what I was going to get. It was the same lady. She heard me! Couldn’t she have told me then and saved me the trouble? Yes–but she didn’t. I turned everyone around and out we went to the van yet again. I loaded all the children, the double stroller and away we went looking for an ATM.

We ended up at a bank and after getting the exact amount of money we would need–plus a little extra to spend at the mini pink ribbon store that was there–we went back for a third time to the convention center. Pulling into the parking lot, I pulled out the snacks and had everyone finish up those before going in. I knew if I attempted it again, I would ultimately hear, “I’m hungry”. So, I crossed that one off the chesklist, first, and made my way through the throngs of women who were now standing in long lines. I found the same lady’s line that I had already stood in twice before. I know, you’re all probably wondering why I chose her again, afterall, she had already failed to give me pertinent information that would have made my life easier given the fact that I was trying to get through this process with 6 children by my side. It was a matter of principle at that point. I was going to prove to her that I was not easily deterred. That I was determined to sign up for this event–and really, if I left now without signing up after going through all the hassle, I would have been more mad at myself!

I thought that if we went and looked through the store, killed some time while picking out some bumper stickers, the lines would diminish some. I kept my eyes on their status and when I realized they were only getting longer, I figured I better go and grab a place. As we stood there, we played Simon Says and amused all the women around us. We also played I Spy until I was sick of it. I was getting hot and so were the kids. I started to peel coats off and pray the line would move faster. I finally get to the front after another 40 minutes only to have her smile sickeningly at me and ask me where all the registration forms were. That was it! I was about to blow and I knew I couldn’t because I’d have 6 children watching me. It’s moments like these when you know they are watching you. This is a teachable moment in patience, tolerance, and keeping my mouth shut firmly. I tried. I really did. I couldn’t help it, though and so I leaned over the table and got very close to her and as I smiled sweetly to her I told her through clenched teeth that this was my first time here. I had no knowledge of the process, the order to get that process done, or that I needed to bring cash or check. I told her that it was her duty as a volunteer to be trained adequately so that when someone shows up and looks lost, they are given ALL the information they need to produce the items necessary to register”. I then asked her where in the hell are the forms. She pointed to the back of the line where a table was set up. AAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!

“Calm Down”, I told myself. “Breathe”. So, I did. The sound in the convention center was becoming deafening with all the chatter and women’s laughter. I was totally over stimulated. The kids, although satiated for the time being, were bored. What was supposed to take me 15 minutes had now taken me over two hours and I was still no closer to getting my race badges. Here is where the crucial mistake was made. Recall, I had given the children snacks in the van? What goes in must come out, right? Yeah–I never thought about that in all my frustration. So, after spending 10 minutes filling out all the information on front and back of 5 forms and standing in line for another 20 minutes, I hear that familiar sound, “Tiiinnnnaaa–I have to go potty!!!!!” That prompted the next one to grab themselves and start dancing–and the next one and the next one–etc. etc. etc. I looked at the front of the line–I was second in line. The women all behind me were secretly happy. I could tell. They were tired of listening to the umpteenth repetition of “Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush”. “Can you hold it just a little longer?” I begged. “NOOOOOO! They all cried”. I should have pottied them when we were filling out the registrations. Hindsight. Crap. “I give up”, I dismally said out loud.

I took them all to the potty but the women’s line was out the door. Double crap. I can’t go in the men’s bathroom, especially with a double stroller so, I am going to let the 4 preschool boys go in as a buddy system and I would be standing right at the door listening for them. The first sign of trouble, I was coming in. Note to self: Never let 4 boys go into a public restroom with urinals hanging from the wall because 1.) they are not preschool sized or hung at a preschool height; 2). They can’t reach the sinks or the soap hanging from the wall; and 3.) the toilets are usually plugged and not flushed and no one will want to go. I could hear the laughter. I knew something was going on. It was just a matter of time, really. They all were bored and it was more fun to be playing in a big boys bathroom then to stand in a line waiting to be helped. I asked a man coming out how it was going in there. He was in there and I know not only had he heard me, but many, many women all around me heard the ongoing conversations I was having loudly with the boys. The man told me they were the only ones in there–noone else if I needed to go in and check on them. I thanked him and started maneuvering the stroller into the narrow opening.

What I saw was comical to say the least. On the one hand, it completely helped break the tension that had been building in me from our disastrous morning and on the other showed me how ingenuitive these boys really were. There they were–still buddied–only not hand in hand as I sent them in there. They had collectively figured out a way to use the urinals so they could all have a chance of peeing on the blue urinal cake. One buddy hoisted his partner up by holding onto his legs. Boy being hoisted was leaning with both hands on the wall on either side of the urinal and the forward lean was helping point the arc in the correct downward spiral. Once done, they switched spots and the hoisters now became the urinators. I do wish I could have taken a picture of that–although highly inappropriate–it was hysterical. My boy was heard throughout the immediate vicinity to say very loudly–”Just don’t pee in my mouth–ok?” I laughed and helped the boys all up to wash hands. I congratulated them on their use of logistical thinking skills and their cooperative teamwork, but asked them kindly to just use the normal potty from now on–even if it means you have to pee on someone’s poo (that was the overwhelming concern they all voiced).

As we emerged from the men’s room, I realized how odd that statement probably sounded coming from my son for those who had not witnessed what was going on. I couldn’t help but openly smile. I re-entered the line to register with all my applications and noticed the lady I had dealt with was now gone. “Probably out to lunch”, I thought. The lines were starting to dwindle and as I approached the front and got all the applications turned in and paid for, I mentioned to the lady as briefly as I could how unprofessional I felt the woman she replaced was. She asked me if the woman had shown or pointed to where the ATM machines were located there within the facility. I was horrified and speachless and as I turned around and looked down a dark corridor, I saw it. AAAAGGGGHHH!!! I turned and told her “Absolutely Not”. She shook her head and apologized. She finished up and told me to take my badges over to the T-shirt table to pick up our groups shirts. I thanked her and headed over there hoping we were close to being done. It was there that the gentleman helping me shorted me one shirt. He swore he had only received 4 vouchers. I swore I gave him 5. He went back through a giant stack of vouchers and began to check. I looked to see if I had dropped one somewhere. Then I saw it. One application that had gotten shoved down by the coats in the cargo bin of the stroller while I was in the restroom with the boys. It was Jasmine’s application. Triple Crap.

You know what that meant. I had to return to line to pay for hers and get her voucher. At that point I was wondering if I should just forget about it. I mean, she was, at that time, MIA and Lord knows when she was going to be back. I went with my gut and decided to wear her badge along with mine should she not show up. Knowing that if she were in her RIGHT mind, she would not miss this and if she did, she would walk in spirit with me. When I got to the front, the first lady was back. I glared at her. She asked me for the money and I handed it over. She said I was $5 dollars short. WHAT??!!!!! I was FURIOUS!!! I had no more money, time, or patience left. I began to replay the events of my entire morning to her including the part where she failed to tell me there was an ATM ON SITE!! Her supervisor came over and it was waived. I was not trying to get out of donating to a worthy cause, mind you, I had spent upwards of $100 that day and knew I would spend more at the race as I perused the vendors, so it’s not like the organization wasn’t going to be making any money off of me, that’s for sure. I snatched the voucher out of her hand, marched over to the T-shirt table and had the man bag up all my shirts. I was relieved to be done, finally. The kids were relieved to be done, finally. Finally, we were going home.

We left the center and it was so nice to hear the quietness of that cold morning. We went to the van, loaded everyone up, loaded the stroller, and began to exit the parking lot. QUADRUPLE CRAP!!!! This sickening feeling washed over me as I looked in between the seats for the bag of shirts. “Oh God, please tell me I didn’t forget them all in there!” I kept muttering “Please, Please, Please” as I pulled over to check the cargo bin of the stroller. Not there. I looked up at the convention center and realized I had to make one more trip inside. I was about to say “Forget It” and take off without them, but I had paid for them. I wanted my family to all wear theirs with me. I pulled back into the parking lot and for the last time, I unloaded all the kids and walked into the center. Now–I just hope someone hasn’t stolen them. We waded through the sea of women and came to the table. There, all bagged up and sitting on top a pile of t-shirts were mine. I opened the bag, counted the shirts, made sure the sizes were all right, and left for the last time.

This would be my first Race For the Cure. I prayed that my children would walk it every year in memory of me and not because they had been affected themselves by the disease. I prayed that I would be a more willing participant of the “Club” once I could see visually how many people are affected by breast cancer. I prayed Jasmine would come home. I prayed that I would have the strength of an army to get through the rest of this year. I was just happy I had made it out of the damn convention center without killing someone!

The morning of, it was chilly and rainy. Not bad, very spitting conditions, yet not my ideal forcast for my first race. We didn’t let it get to us. We donned our shirts, our race badges, and peeled Jasmine out of bed–she had made it. I’m not sure how with us she really was, but she was physically there and she was willing to participate–so that spoke volumes to me at least. I was overwhelmed and found my eyes tearing up on more than one occassion. I had never seen so many people! I even knew some of them–more members of this club of women–some I had even remembered seeing in the Center for Breast Health’s waiting rooms. We walked that day–all 5 of us. Jasmine pretty much walked ahead of us and at times I wondered if she were looking for an escape route somewhere along the way. We posed for pictures and I secretly wondered if I would be around for next year’s. I began to notice the little patch on the survivor caps that delineated how many years cancer free they had been.

I didn’t wear a wig and I was trying to own my baldness on that day. I had a baseball cap and a smile and my family. That was all that mattered to me. We walked the long route. We saw all sorts of crazy and funny things from t-shirts to dogs decked out in pink ribbons and booties. We saw memorials emblazoned across the backs of countless idividuals walking for loved ones they had lost or were battling their dragons. It’s hard to explain, but the whole time I walked, I had a lump in my throat. It was hard to swallow. Just as it is hard to swallow the fact that 1 in 8 women will be diagnosed. Seeing that many women walking, and watching more intently to the chatter on Twitter regarding similar walks all around the country has prompted me to really think that statistic is not correct. “It just has to be lower than that”, I kept saying to myself as we walked.

One of my all time favorite movies is Superstar featuring Mary Katherine Gallagher, a clumsy parochial student who is just looking for acceptance. She always strikes a pose and cries, “Superstar” as an affirmation to her awesome-ness. When I passed the finish line I pulled my signature Superstar move. Everyone there laughed and cheered! The news crew came down and asked me to give my name so they could give a shout out to me on the radio. I told them I was Christina Heald, 3 month survivor so far, and I was a Superstar!

Superstar!

Moral of the story: Always pre-register for the damn race!!!

Chance Encounter?

I remember vividly the day this man walked into my life. It was September 17, 2003 and I had just given birth to my son two days before. Over the course of that 24 hours, I began to realize that something was wrong with my new baby and that he wasn’t eating. He was starving, I could tell by the way he rooted for my breast and cried. For some reason, he wasn’t latching on. I knew I was about to be in trouble because my milk was beginning to come in and my breasts were swollen and painful. I tried relentlessly to get Justin to latch, but his tiny little mouth just wouldn’t form a seal. I cried and became anxious and begged the nurses to ask the doctor to find out what was wrong, afterall, I had never had any problems with my other two children latching on and I surely didn’t have any problems producing milk. In fact, I have often said I could’ve fed a third world nation with the amount I was producing. So, this was truly frustrating me and the baby and as much as I tried not to be upset so my milk wouldn’t be stressy, I couldn’t help but feel this fleeting sense of loss that I may never have the opportunity to nurse another child.

Through that first night and into the next day, the nurses also tried to bottle feed–something I had never done with my two girls and yet, whatever would help the little guy out and satiate his hunger was fine by me. I was also exhausted after a long natural childbirth and welcomed the break–something I had never allowed myself with the first two either. By the second morning, it was becoming clear that something wasn’t right. It just so happened that a particular physician was on call that morning on the OB floor and he was sent in to talk to me. I was holding Justin and trying to get him to suck on a tiny binky. I heard the door open up and as I looked up, I saw a very tall, distinguished, and kind looking man walk into the room. His dark suit made him look taller and I could tell with his handshake that he had the most gentle bedside manner and demeanor.

He proceeded to tell me that Justin was tongue tied. The little membrane that holds the tongue to the floor of your mouth so it won’t fall back in your throat was actually much longer than most babies. His was mounted to the back of his bottom gum line. It was preventing Justin from thrusting his tongue out to draw the nipple into his mouth. It was also preventing him from making the motion with his tongue that helped draw the milk out. Without a small surgery called a frenotomy. It was a fairly routine and ismple procedure where he would make a snip in the membrane and it would allow for improved tongue movement. This had several advantages–breastfeeding, eating as he got older, and most importantly, speech. Being tongue tied would impede the necessary movements the tongue needs to make in order to produce certain sounds.

Of course, I agreed, but felt sick to my stomach that within the first 48 hours of his birth, he had been circumcised (a procedure I watched and almost passed out in) and now this. There was something about this doctor, however, that put me at ease. He was quiet and soft spoken and empathetic to my worry about it hurting. He assured me it would not be bad and that I should immediately nurse my baby afterword. He promised it would do the trick. I believed in him and ya know what? He was right. Never had a problem after that and Justin was a hearty eater. He made up for lost time and spent the next week literally hanging off me. As the doctor left that day, he gave me his card. His name was like two first names and I told myself I would never forget it. I noticed he was a plastic surgeon. I remember thinking two things after thanking him and watching him leave, “Well, if anyone was going to be cutting on my baby, I’m glad it was a plastic surgeon because they will be meticulous about it.” The second thing I thought was, “hhhmmm, I should hang on to this card, never know when I might need that boob job”!

I said it jokingly, but secretly wondered if someday I would have the guts to really have one–afterall the affects of time, gravity and nursing three children had and would continue to prove my point that I was beginning to look like the poster child for National Geographic. Little did I know that my words–my very UN-SPECIFIC words would come back 5 1/2 years later to haunt me.

What do you think–chance encounter or a sign?

Circle of Friendship

In this past year, I have come to grow a new circle of friends. An international collection of women and some men that have followed my story and been an ever present support to me as I have battled with many demons. When I started this blog it was to mainly keep a few far off relatives in touch with my progress. As the weeks and months have passed, an army has marched into my life. Some of these soldiers that keep me motivated are friends from my childhood that I have reconnected with through Facebook. I’ve even been getting the hand of Twitter-something that has been driving me a little nuts all summer. Many of my new friends now mingle in with my old friends and it doesn’t matter who drops me a line, I am always happy to know that someone is thinking of me. Many of my old friends now read my new friend’s blogs as well. Technology sure has had a way of connecting everyone.

I have thoroughly enjoyed this network that has spread across the world. My hits have surpassed 10,000 –something I never expected. It’s like opening up a present every morning when I wake up. I check stats to see where hits are coming in from and I quickly check for messages. Love getting them, but don’t get as many as I would love. I check world locator and find that people in Russia, New Zealand, Australia, Hong Kong, Japan, Europe, Finland, Africa and beyond must be subscribers because of the regularity of their visits. I have also been surprised to see that my blog has been rated 4th in the top 100 blogs out there about breast cancer on Networked Blogs. That is fantastic! Now if I could just get all my readers to click follow on that widget in the sidebar–those ratings would shoot up even faster! (That’s a hint! ) It is really the one thing that has helped me process this mind-boggling year. Learning how to build a blog, learning how to set up new accounts that support that blog such as flickr and youtube, learning how to grab code and install widgets, learning how to format posts and hyperlink are all newly learned skills that I now really enjoy playing around with. Through it all, I have maintained a clear vision of what I want to do with the blog and where I ultimately want it to go. “If you build it, they will come”, I keep reminding myself.

The way I look at it is this, I am providing my children with a glimpse into their mother’s life. Years from now, whether I live or not from this, my children will be able to understand what their mom went through. My grandchildren will know something of their grandmother. My friends will remember the fight and have a newfound appreciation. It is always humbling for me to see that as I lurk around in the middle of the night checking out other blogs that I find mine in other’s blogrolls. They may be commentators or just part of that silent army that keeps me in their prayers, but either way–to all of you, I want to thank you for your continued support. Then, there are a few that have really helped my army grow. Friends across the country and the world that have quoted something from my blog and hyperlinked your readers back to me. There are community forums that I am blessed to be a part of and in doing so, I have met even more wonderful individuals.

One such woman came into my life just recently, friended me on FB and also proceeded to quote me in a post she wrote for an online news source blog out of Seattle, WA. Her name is Carolyn Harris and she is a writer with a very interesting background. She pens a blog called Lyn’s Circle: Chronicles of a Married Feminist. I encourage you not just to check out the excerpt she wrote about me, but also to check out her bio. When I read it (and to clear up a misprint–my nickname is cj not cy but no worries here) I couldn’t help but close my eyes and imagine what RVing through New Zealand or Sailing to Cuba must be like. I have had the pleasure of chatting with her and am glad once again that in this giant world, I know that there are others that are equally impassioned about spreading the word.

At the end of her bio she states:

“Lyn invites you to join her circle of friends. She feels sometimes women get stuck in their seats because it’s easier to sit there, do nothing and stay miserable than risk a change. She wants you to reach out. Your problem is not unique. Somewhere in this circle you’ll find another woman who understands your scars. With a little help from our sisters, we can laugh a little, cry a little, and figure out what to do with the rest of our lives”.

When I read this, I thought you were talking directly to me. When you came along, I was beginning to retreat once again into a pit of despair, thanks for pulling me out. It’s a never ending struggle to get my head back in the game, just when I think I’m making progress, I have a major setback. Unless you’ve been confronted with something of such life changing magnitude–whether it’s a health related or not, whether its directly or indirectly, you can only try and imagine what another individual is going through. Reality is quite a different story and since we are all on this Earth together, it’s comforting to know that although someone may not actually KNOW what you think and feel, there are common bonds that tie us all together. The biggest of these are love, compassion, and empathy. Thanks for coming into my life, Carolyn. Your presence is appreciated.

cj

Ok, Fine, I’ll Sign Up…

For over a month now, I have been sitting quietly back and wondering whether or not I should join in all the excitement over NaNoWriMo. It Stands for National Novel Writing Month. It’s a contest to see if you can commit to cranking out a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. Anyone who reads my blog can verify that I am usually not at a loss for words and my posts tend to run anywhere between 2500-3500 words. So, what’s the problem, then? I have two stories that have been brewing in the back of my head for the majority of this year and I would absolutely love to jump in. However…I just don’t know if the timing is right. I’m going through with the surgeries and the fills and opening up my home each week to observation after observation so I can look back and know that my professional goals for this year were met. But, as much as I want to just write on my blog every day, the details of my life take over and if I’m lucky, I will get two minutes at a red light somewhere just to check stats. By the time the day is done, I’m exhausted.

I was unable to really get through school this year and ended up taking the whole year off so I could clear my head, not worry about those deadlines and exams. I still haven’t filed my taxes for 2008 yet and now I’m needing to get 2009 ready. I have a daughter that lives across the state at the moment and be that as it may, I am still busy with conference calls, staffing calls, writing to her, and trying to get through the horrific mess she made in her room almost a year ago. I shut the door and expected her to clean it up. But, I am hoping she will come home and I know that as fragile as she is emotionally at the moment, the last thing she needs is to feel overwhelmed in her own room. I’m trying to come up with a system that will sort of resemble how she’s been living for the past few months so she will feel at ease as she re-integrates.

I know, I know–excuses. Here I am–the biggest cheerleader to those friends of mine that are participating and have been on the NaNoWriMo bandwagon for quite some time, and yet–I’m just not one to start something if I can’t finish it. Yet–again–I didn’t finish school last winter–aaarrrggghhh–back and forth–back and forth. I drive myself completely nuts sometimes just talking myself in or out of something. So, I’ve jumped off the fence. I’m going to try. If I don’t make the goal–then I don’t make the goal–but I will have tried. It’s process over product and I have posted that on my friend, Traci’s blog, An Unencumbered Life over and over as she has struggled with some of the same issues I have. I know in any other year, I could do this with my eyes shut. Why not this year, I ask? There’s really no reason good enough for me not to just jump in and try. Whether I write a little or a lot, I am going to try. It’s not about the content or the correct grammar and such as it is about just getting your story on paper. I’m going to tell my inner editor to shut the hell up and I’m going to write. There are so many people who do this around the world and I have been really amazed at the buzz about it. I listen in on Twitter and have been reading some of the forums. I joined a region–Iowa (elsewhere) because my particular region wasn’t listed. I have Traci as a writing buddy and because I see her everyday anyway (she’s one of my daycare moms), we can commiserate together.

The website is really pretty neat and I would encourage all of you to check it out if you’ve ever had a story in you that is dying to come out. If you make your 50,000 word goal (which is really only about 1700 words or so a day–honestly–half of one of my blog posts–that’s it!) then you are considered a winner. There is a section for young writers also and I have taken the time to print out the entire high school workbook and take it over to Kinkos to be bound. I sent it to Jasmine. She has filled 5 journals so far since she has been where she’s at and the story she will tell, I’m sure will be worth the read. I have also told a young girl I used to watch and now teach piano lessons to. She loves to write. I hope she joins and becomes a writing buddy of mine too. I know there have to be many of you out there that have heard of this, have participated in the past, have won, or have just thought about it. I would love to connect with you and become a writing buddy with you. If you hunt me up on the website, my username is cjheald. Don’t look at the word count generator because so far, I’ve been trying to work out the title. I have the book cover already in mind, just have to wait for my next surgery to snap a picture of it. I tried to post a word count graph so you could all see my progress, but can’t seem to get it to work.

I have a post coming up that is mainly pictures. I have spent the past 3 weeks debating whether or not to do this. I have been editing not for my sake, really, but for the sake of my husband who is uncomfortable with me letting it all hang out–or not. I am an open book these days. If I can help one person, then I have contributed. However, I am feeling censored in some areas and am wrestling with how to continue to tell my story. I have come to realize that I have many posts that are from this year that are filled with some strong language or content. Pictures that are more suited for adults than children and so I decided to have my blog rated. It carries an R rating and is really not suitable for anyone under 17. How can I monitor this across the world–I can’t–except to exercise some caution or restraint…hhhmmm…I’ll think about it.

In case any of you were wondering–this post is approximately 1150 words. I had two additional paragraphs that were quite lengthy attached, but have put them into the next post as they were more suited there. My main concern in the next two weeks is my taxes. I will be pushing the end of November with Nanowrimo–I hope anyway and there’s quite a bit coming up on here as well. Stay tuned.